


Long Black

by sansos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Atsumu's a good guy, Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/M, One Shot, Slow Build, barista atsumu, i'm not sure what to tag this as honestly, mentions of unhappy relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansos/pseuds/sansos
Summary: Long black - An espresso-based drink consisting of hot water topped with a shot of espresso, similar to an Americano but in reverse order, allowing for greater retention of the crema.It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to work part-time at the coffee shop, but it’s not like he hated it either. A regular at the store made the many hours worthwhile for him, after all.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 165





	Long Black

**Author's Note:**

> Here is me working on a new one shot instead of the multi-chapter fic I have been meaning to finish. Somehow this ended up being really long. I really love coffee. This is written in a limited omniscient perspective, so you’ll only get insight into one of the character’s thoughts. Feel free to make your own inferences about the other character’s thoughts, but I’ve left some hints here and there to guide you!
> 
> Also a quick disclaimer: I love alternative milk and dairy milk equally. It's Atsumu being judgmental, not me!
> 
> As usual, cross-posted on Tumblr

It wasn’t like Atsumu particularly wanted to work part-time at the coffee shop, but more like he was doing it as a favor for his stupid twin.

> _“Can’t ya be less of a shithead for one second and be a good person for once?”_
> 
> _“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”_

He couldn’t cook, but he did make a mean cup of coffee. Sometimes you just had to enjoy the finer things in life, you know?

> _“Ya owe me a favor.”_
> 
> _“Since when?”_
> 
> _“Since ya ate ma damn ice-cream ya piss ugly potato.”_

Atsumu sighed. It wasn’t that he particularly hated the job, though. It was decent. The owner was an acquaintance of his brother’s, and all their beans were self-roasted. They were easy to get along with. A bit on the quiet side, but Atsumu didn’t mind. The conversations were always easy to control. The problem came from the fact that the target demographic didn’t seem to actually _know_ what coffee actually was.

> _“Can I get a latte without milk please?”_
> 
> _“Mhm… Did you want an espresso?” Atsumu asked, eyes disappearing into a fake smile. The girl ordering at the counter dramatically shot her hand up to her mouth and loudly gasped._
> 
> _Does she think she’s cute? Atsumu narrowed his eyes at the action, the smile on his face subtly disappearing._
> 
> _“No, I can’t drink bitter things and there’s way too much fat in milk…” She began, looking up at the blond man with a pout. Atsumu feigned an amused chuckle, and his award-winning customer service smile returned to his face once more._
> 
> _“How about an oat milk tea latte instead?”_

He uncreased the wrinkles in his apron as he hopped off of his chair to make his way over to the window. Another day. Quiet, but that’s to be expected on a weekday before the lunch rush. It was fine with him though, he could concentrate on the things that mattered a little more when it was quiet.

His eyes lazily found their way focused on the sky.

“Stupid sky’s so damn broad,” he mumbled to himself as he rested his chin in his hand.

He had the opening shift again today, just like he’s had for the past two weeks. It was the same tasks everyday. Unlock the doors, wipe down the tables, select the brew, wait all day for customers to slowly trickle in. While his boss was out and about meeting with new roasters and sampling new coffees, he was here watching over the shop.

It was boring, mundane, and routine-like. But then again, it wasn’t like it was a problem for him. He chose to take the summer off and not register for summer courses this year. Besides, if he really wanted to, nothing was stopping him from going out and finding another job —one that brought about more excitement. He had chosen not to. Right now, he had everything in control. He liked it that way.

He liked predictability.

He picked himself up and walked back over to the counter. Perhaps he would try experimenting with specialty drinks. He was good enough at his job, he knew enough about coffee.

He could do everything that he wanted to. It was just a matter of choice for him, after all.

The bell hanging above the door chimed, and he looked up to welcome the woman who just walked in.

 _Long (h/c) hair, looks straightened. Grey wool jacket and black pants. Yellow turtleneck. Let me guess, she’ll order a cortado, request for skim milk, and then complain that it’s too bitter._ Atsumu thought to himself as his signature smile made its way onto his face.

“Good morning,” he greeted as his eyes once again disappeared into his smile.

You looked up at him to acknowledge his presence, and immediately looked back down at the menu.

“Long black, please. Your Brazilian beans today,” you plainly said after skimming through the coffee bean selection and handed your mug over to him.

“Long black, and in ceramic? You know your coffee,” Atsumu said, impressed, as he took the mug from your hands. It came as a surprise to him that it wasn’t an insulated thermos. “Good choice, though. Today’s blend is my favorite.”

You gave a simple shrug in response. “You learn some things here and there when you drink it enough.”

Atsumu looked up at you with curiosity. His brother drank coffee everyday too. In fact, he was probably dependent on it at this point. But even Osamu didn’t know about the difference in mug material until Atsumu had went on a rant about how stainless steel was the bane of coffee’s existence.

“Did you take me for a pumpkin spice latte type of person?” You guessed, this time with a smile gracing your face.

Atsumu lightly laughed as his mind was brought back to the present by your question. “Yeah,” he bashfully admitted as he turned around the counter to fill your mug with water. “You broke the pattern.”

The blond’s hand slipped past the skim milk he had set out in anticipation of your order, and grabbed a shot glass from the side of the espresso machine. It was weird. He had gotten so good at guessing orders, it was nearly like clockwork. A customer would come in, engage with him in conversation, mull over the cafe’s menu for around five minutes, and then ask him for his recommendation.

“Here you go,” he said as he handed you back your mug. “Enjoy.”

* * *

Two weeks probably passed. Two weeks since you started appearing in the coffee shop.

You came usually around at ten o’clock during the weekday. An interesting time, but that might have been because you worked unconventional hours. On weekends, it was always in the morning, at around 9 o’clock. Much earlier than usual. Atsumu quickly learned to recognize your belongings so he could spot you ahead of time from the windows. A red umbrella, black boots, a brown leather tote.

Once in a while, you’d wear something completely different it would throw him off, but he was right most of the time still. You might have worn black leggings and a grey dry-fit shirt, but your order was always the same. A long black to go in your personal ceramic mug. He had grown accustomed to leaving out a spare shot glass in preparation for your order when dealing with the morning rush just in case you decided to drop by a little earlier than usual.

“Long black?” He asked when you went up to the counter, and reached out his hand to receive your mug.

“Yes, actually,” you said with a small smile, placing your mug into his hand.

“Brazilian beans, right?”

“You know it,” you chuckled as you headed over to the bar area to wait for your order. “I feel like you’ve gotten faster somehow.”

Atsumu laughed. The conversations between the two of you these fourteen days have all been like this, he noticed. He’d say something short, and you would smile at him and give him a short reply. You’d say something short, and he’d laugh and give a short reply. The conversation was always coffee related. Never personal, never intrusive. He liked it that way. A professional relationship between a barista and a regular customer.

“Perhaps my skill’s gotten better,” he suggested, looking up at you with a smile. You chuckled at his response.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like your short conversations. No, he looked forward to your short interactions every day. He liked predictability. He liked being prepared for the perfect response to whatever you might say. He could steer the conversation to another topic if he wanted to, but he chose not to. He was a professional, after all.

“I feel like you’ve figured out my pattern, Miya-san,” you said as you reached for your mug over the bar.

_Miya?_

“Your name tag,” you offered, pointing at the object pinned onto his apron. The man looked down, and was met with the black object in question.

“You know,” he said between laughs, “I wear this so often that I’ve forgotten about it.”

This time when you laugh, your eyes crinkle around the corners. Atsumu recognizes this as the laugh that comes out when you genuinely find something funny and are not laughing solely out of friendliness or politeness.

“A beautiful lady with a beautiful mug, ceramic I might add,” he started, returning to the original question that was asked. He pointed at the mug in question nestled comfortably in your hands. “Leaves an impression on its own. Then pair it off with a beautiful coffee order? Hard to forget, if you ask me,” he finished, folding his arms along the barista’s side of the counter.

He studied the expressions that flitted past your face as you processed what he had just said, a smile unknowingly growing on his face. Knowing his name came as a surprise to him, but he still had control over the conversation. This he was certain. It was a momentary lapse of his memory, but he still chose to wear the name tag, didn’t he? It was to be expected that a regular customer such as yourself would know his name. After all, you’ve seen one another for fourteen days straight. When he thought about it, there was really nothing to be alarmed about.

Since you knew his name, it was only fair that he knew yours, he decided. It was pretty common for baristas to know the names of their regulars. During rush hour, he had to rely on the names he quickly scribbled onto the paper cups to let the store’s patrons know to come pick up their orders. It was only natural if you thought about it. It was part of the job, and therefore part of the pattern.

“My name’s (l/n) (f/n),” you answered when he asked, with him repeating your name after you. You nodded in satisfaction as you turned around to head over to the door. 

“You can call me Atsumu,” he offered. You turned around in surprise. Before you had a chance to insist on formalities he quickly added, “I have a twin. It gets weird when both of us are around.” His hand found its way onto the nape of his neck. “People always call us Miya-san when they can’t remember who’s who,” he rambled on.

You laughed and nodded, biding a “See you later, Atsumu,” before slipping through the crack of the glass door and back into the bright sunny day outside.

Atsumu waved good bye with the hand previously resting on his neck, and then turned it around to take a closer look at his palms.

Atsumu wasn’t really sure why he told you that.

* * *

Another two weeks passed, and Atsumu and you had settled into a rather nice routine. You would come in usually right after the morning rush, or sometimes during the morning rush if you woke up early enough. Give or take two hours from ten o’clock. Sometimes you’d pop by during lunch, sometimes after work, and would complain that you needed more coffee to properly focus on work. Your order was always the same, and Atsumu kept a couple of shot glasses lined up on the side of the counter to prepare for your arrival every day.

He was starting to have everything all figured out.

The conversations were a bit longer than before, but it still followed the same pattern. You would say something, he’d laugh and share something with you, to which you would laugh in response. Topics ranged from the new selection of beans available this week, the specialty drinks he’s been working on, stories about his twin brother, stories about your workplace, stories about your life. The relationship between the two of you had evolved past what it was originally, just like how Atsumu had wanted it. With every conversation, he learnt a little more about you, and it became easier to predict which coffee beans you would drift towards. A little easier to predict what time you would arrive, and a little easier to predict how many times you would drop by in a day.

You’ve been dating someone for the past year. He was sure that you mentioned the name in passing, but Atsumu couldn’t even remember what the first letter was, let alone the entire name. It wasn’t his place to ask, the two of you were simply a barista and a regular at a local coffee shop. There was a simplicity to the silent arrangement that existed between the two of you —a simplicity that he found comfort in.

You tended towards the medium-dark roasts. You said you liked the bitterness of the taste, and often asked which roast would have a more alkaline —even caustic— taste to it. When you received your coffee, you would always take a sniff before covering up your mug with the lid. Atsumu noticed that your smile always grew a little wider when the roast was more smoky or ashy compared to if it was more fruity or flowery. Sometimes Atsumu would find his mind wandering about the meaning behind your preferences, but it didn’t matter. You were a coffee shop regular who knew her way around coffee. Your tastes didn’t need justifying as long as you enjoyed your coffee. It wasn’t his place to ask. His job was simply to brew the perfect drink for you. 

Just like any other day, you had arrived at the coffee shop in the predicted time block, but today, your ceramic mug was nowhere in sight. Atsumu found it odd, but shook the feeling, reasoning that you must have woken up late and was in a rush this morning. Plenty of customers would leave their containers at home by accident, and have to make do with the cafe’s paper cup. It wasn’t a big deal, especially when they didn’t even notice the difference in taste when using paper compared to stainless steel.

It came as a surprise to him when you asked for your order “for here” instead of “to go”. He had to ask you to confirm to make sure he didn’t imagine the words that just came out of your mouth. You only laughed and said that you wanted to change things up —that you left your mug at home on purpose because you had decided that you wanted to enjoy your coffee in the shop.

Atsumu took you for a work-driven person —always on the move, always seeking for a way to be productive. He hadn’t expected you to intentionally slow down your schedule. He definitely did not predict this happening, but when he really thought about it, it made perfect sense. Someone who enjoyed coffee like yourself would certainly want to make time to properly taste their drink… right?

It unsettled him slightly, but it wasn’t that he was particularly uncomfortable with it. He could get used to it. It could become part of the routine.

“Work been busy for you lately?”

You looked up at him, face painted in confusion as you clutched onto the cafe’s mug.

“No?”

Atsumu gave a polite smile and looked back down to focus on cleaning the machine.

“Work hasn’t been too busy lately. We finished that major project I was telling you about—“

“—the one with the major investment?”

“Yes, that one. We finished that last month so everything’s been a bit quieter. It’s nice at work, there’s a lot of time to relax by yourself, our start time’s gotten pushed back as a reward for all the over time we put in,” you continued, resting your lips against your index finger as you spoke, your mug now resting on the table on your side. “Why do you ask?”

Atsumu couldn’t come up with the words to describe it, but something about you intrigued him. Since the first time you walked through the entrance, something about you had captivated his focus. Maybe it was his desire to find your pattern, but he was somehow always able to find every little change in your appearance, from the way you dressed, to the way you did your hair, to the way you did your makeup. Sometimes it was subtle, such as switching the color of your eyeliner, while other times it was much more obvious, such as when you changed the color of your umbrella.

“Looks like somethin’s been keepin’ ya up,” he replied as he walked over and plopped himself in the free seat across from you. Another confused look from you then led him to point underneath your eyes.

“Dark circles,” he answered in a deadpan manner, as if it was matter-of-fact.

A dry laugh, and the sound of metal scraping across the tiled floor.

“I need to go,” you mumbled as you thrusted the mug back into his hands and headed for the door.

Why did he say that?

* * *

Another two weeks passed by within the blink of an eye. Two weeks since you suddenly upped and left when Atsumu asked if something on your mind had been keeping you up. You never brought it up, and in turn, he never brought it up either. It was somewhat of a silent agreement to not speak of it again —to pretend as if that interaction never occurred.

In spite of that, Atsumu couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back. He might have stopped talking about it, but he never stopped thinking of reasons why you had reacted the way you did. Did you not like having a physical flaw pointed out? He didn’t see you as the type to care much about dark circles. Did you leave something at home and realized as he was talking? But he deduced that you weren’t the forgetful type a while back.

He didn’t anticipate that reaction from you. It unnerved him that he didn’t see it coming.

Though it wasn’t that he was particularly scared by it. It was interesting. 

Just like any other day, you strolled in sometime within your usual time block, carrying a brown tote and your red umbrella, wearing the black boots you always wore when it rained. Atsumu had noticed your figure from the large windows near the entrance and, as usual, had a shot glass prepared underneath the espresso machine.

“Just like usual,” he mused to himself as you walked up to the counter.

You went up to Atsumu and greeted him with a wistful smile, your always-present mug nowhere to be seen.

_Hm?_

Atsumu leaned in ever so slightly to take a closer look at your face.

 _Just as I thought_. Atsumu straightened his posture to return to his original position without you noticing. _Maybe it’ll be better to not mention anything this time though_ , Atsumu thought as he greeted you with his usual smile. “Good morning, (f/n). The usual?”

“No, can I just get a croissant, please?”

Atsumu was taken aback.

“No coffee?” He found himself blurting out.

“No coffee,” you repeated, your usual smile absent.

Atsumu wordlessly nodded and went over to the display case to grab your order.

“Want me to warm it up for ya?” He found himself asking, craning his neck to look at your face.

“Oh,” you sputtered out in surprise, earning a chuckle from the man. It was about time he managed to catch you off guard. “Y-Yes, please. That would be nice, I think.”

Atsumu observed the silence that fell upon the two of you as he punched in the numbers to start up the oven. It was uncomfortable. Silences were common in your interactions —they felt natural, serene, as if they had been purposely planned to allow the two of you to enjoy the company of the other. This was different, but not the same type of different that you seemed to radiate and captured his attention with. He would not have been able to predict this, no, this was definitely out of the character profile that he had built for you. But rather than spontaneity and excitement, this was…

This was uncomfortable and different, and all around worrisome.

He was a barista working part-time at the coffee shop that you frequented. He was simply a person that you interacted with briefly every morning without fail in order to get ahold of the common interest tying the two of you together. It wasn’t his place to worry, and it wasn’t his place to pry. A simple relationship existed between the two of you, one built on respect and professionalism, to be friendly but not intrusive, to be welcoming but not overbearing.

_But what do I have to lose?_

“Ya know,” Atsumu started as he turned around from the oven, “Wouldn’t hurt ta try somethin’ new, right?”

You stared back at him, wide-eyed. Atsumu simply hummed in response and handed you a brown paper bag. You silently nodded while reaching out for your order, never completely breaking eye contact from him, and then backed up to the door. Saying a quiet goodbye, you bowed and hurried out the door.

Atsumu waved goodbye from the counter with a soft smile on his lips. Watching your figure disappear from his field of view through the windows, he found his eyes staring up at the sky.

It wasn’t part of his plan, and it definitely did not fit into the ideal relationship between a barista and a regular to him. He closed his eyes as a small smile danced on the edge of his lips.

The rain that had been hammering down when you first walked in had stopped and the clouds had started to disperse, giving way to the vast domain of the clear sky.

He knew why he said it this time.

“Wouldn’t hurt ta try somethin’ new,” he repeated quietly to himself. 

* * *

The next day you didn’t show up.

For twenty-one days straight, you had been a constant in his life —a constant that he nearly took for granted. Your daily interactions with him served as something of a punch card for the tall man —his sense of time returned when he saw your smile, as if it was analogous to the sun rising from the east at the beginning of each day.

He had only realized you never came by when the owner arrived at the shop after lunch to relieve Atsumu from his shift and had asked about the three shot glasses neatly lined on the espresso machine. He had scratched his head and laughed it off, citing boredom driving him to the brink of insanity, but he had fooled no one. The coffee shop was particularly busy that day.

The day after, he punched in his time card, unlocked the doors, wiped down the tables, selected the day’s brew, and sat down behind the counter waiting for the customers to trickle in.

Another day of business, another day of the same old routine.

Atsumu’s fingers drummed along the counter. For once since he started working, he felt restless —impatient even. He checked his watch: it was barely seven in the morning. Another three hours before you showed up… _If_ you showed up.

The bell rang, alerting of a customer, and Atsumu glanced up from the book that he had started to keep his mind preoccupied.

You walked in with your grey coat and black boots.

“Long black, Brazilian?” He asked, using your regular order as an excuse to start conversation.

“No,” you answered with the slightest tremble in your voice. "Can I get a milk hot chocolate with three pumps of peppermint instead?”

Atsumu looked at you stunned, eyes as wide as the coffee shop’s dishes that were neatly organized underneath the counter.

“Huh?” Was the only sound that Atsumu was able to make in response. You surprised him often, but this took the cake. This contradicted everything that your regular coffee order had stood for. You craved the bitterness the espresso had to offer, and avoided the sweetness and creaminess that the other drinks on the menu highlighted. The long black had illustrated the mystery and maturity to your character, and epitomized your desire for challenges and pursuit for excellence. For you to order a drink that didn’t even have caffeine in it?

He took a closer look at you.

Your hair wasn’t perfectly straight today. It was messy at the back, as if someone had run their hands wild in it in frustration. You had spent no effort in hiding your dark circles, with not a single speck of makeup on your face. You looked tired, drained, and exhausted. And yet, he could feel an air of certainty surrounding you. An air of certainty that wasn’t there yesterday.

_I see._

“Somethin’ happen?” He asked as he punched your order into the register and grabbed a mug for your drink from the side. You glanced up, staring straight into his eyes as if in search for something.

“You could say that,” you replied with a small chuckle as you made your way to sit down at the seat closest to the espresso machine. “Had an… eventful night.”

“Care to share?” He asked without looking up, his focus devoted to the pitcher of milk that he was frothing up.

“I… Ah…” You started, leaning back from your seat to stare at the ceiling. “I broke things off.”

Atsumu kept quiet. It probably wouldn’t be polite to laugh in this situation. He had guessed as much would happen, and yet while he had finally managed to make an accurate prediction regarding you, it wasn’t the reason why he found himself in a good mood.

 _I hadn’t planned for this_ , he thought as a small smirk found its way onto his face. He looked over at you. _But that’s alright_.

“Ya doin’ ok?”

You looked back down to find Atsumu staring intently at you, and a flush immediately found its way onto your cheeks. “I.. I suppose…” You mumbled as you glanced over to the side, fidgeting with your fingers underneath the counter — a habit that Atsumu had since learnt appeared when you were flustered.

_How cute._

“Here ya go,” Atsumu said as he placed the mug in front of you and slid into the seat next to yours. He noticed the small jump that came from you in response and let out a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

You looked back over at him, confusion decorating your face though making no indication of discomfort at the sudden contact. When Atsumu sensed the tenseness in your shoulders dissipate, he rested his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m here if ya want a shoulder to lean on,” he said, softly staring into your eyes. You nodded and took a sip from your mug.

“Did you… Add a shot in this?”

“Surprise ya?” He asked amusedly as he got up from his spot and started to head back around the counter. “Don’t let a dumbass stop ya from getting yer daily caffeine fix, yeah?”

You giggled in response. Just as predicted.

But what he hadn’t predicted was you getting off of your chair and following him to the back of the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“Thank you, Atsumu,” you whispered into his back.

“Any time, (f/n).”

* * *

Atsumu next saw you two days later. An unexplained period of absence that he hadn’t bothered to think about. Time and time again you’ve managed to catch him off guard with your presence, but you would always show up again in the end.

You were unpredictable.

Though it wasn’t as if he was bothered by it. He liked it.

He’d wait for you to surprise him.

You strolled into the store wearing a white cardigan, green pants, and light brown boots. With no tote bag in sight, you carried your bright red laptop case with your arms.

Your hair was shorter. Much shorter, resting just above your shoulders now. Atsumu guessed you had cut probably about 5” off.

It suited you.

You emanated an air of confidence —or was it liberation? He wasn’t sure, but what difference did it make? Every step you took commanded the attention of passerbys, with Atsumu being no exception. You were refreshing, vitalizing, and captivating.

It suited you.

You brightly waved over at the blond man when he made eye contact with you, and Atsumu pointed over to the counter, mouthing at you to take a seat. Rather than the usual look of confusion you would give him when he did something unexpected, you simply nodded at him with a wide grin plastered on your face, a twinkle shimmering in your eyes.

“Here ya go, finish yer coffee first and then take a look at the receipt to pay up front,” Atsumu said as he slid the mug in front of you. He had anticipated your arrival. He didn’t know what time —heck, he didn’t even know what _day_ — you would be coming, but he knew you would eventually show up and had hand selected a blend especially for you. For two days, he had patiently waited for your visit. It didn’t faze him when you didn’t show up, he left it up to you to surprise him. He liked the randomness and unpredictability your existence seemed to embody in his life. Besides, he had a surprise up his sleeve as well.

You picked up the mug and gave it a quick sniff, just like you always did, and instantly found yourself transported to a field full of gardenias, with the sun situated atop in a cloudless sky.

Atsumu quietly watched from the corner of his eye as he tended to the rest of the orders in the queue. “Hazelnut latte to go,” he announced as he made his way past you to the serving counter. He’d give you some space for now, he decided.

The morning rush came and left in the hour you sat alone at the bar in silence. Atsumu was wiping down the steam wand when he heard a soft _clank_ and looked over to see you setting down your now empty mug.

You flipped over the receipt and unfolded it as you walked over to the counter to pay.

“Ya like the coffee?” Atsumu asked from his spot by the machine, showing no signs he intended on moving over to the cash register. 

You nodded. “It was more fruity than the usual blends… Some floral notes too… It was different. But I liked it,” you said as you unzipped your wallet. “I liked it a lot,” you continued with a small smile as you slid the credit card across the counter towards Atsumu.

“I don’t know if that will be enough to cover the cost,” Atsumu said with a shrug of his shoulders, and pointed at the receipt in your hand. “Might want to double check.”

Your nose crinkled in confusion as you brought the receipt closer to your line of sight.

> _03-XXXX-XXXX. Call me._

You laughed and shook your head. Atsumu grinned back at you.

You slowly walked over to the back of the counter, walking heel to toe with your hands interlocked behind your back.

Atsumu turned over to face you, and put down the pitcher he was drying down to the side of the counter.

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring straight into his eyes as Atsumu reached over to weave your fingers in his.

“This was a change I needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did some spring cleaning of my old assignments and got reminded of all the amazing short stories I used to read for English literature. Short stories speak so loudly yet with so few words, they're so incredibly cool and I wanted to try writing one myself. The story itself is loosely based on an experience of mine, but without Atsumu’s character. I tried to intertwine a theme into it, but I wonder if it got through? 
> 
> Also, oat milk in tea lattes is the BEST.


End file.
